


i'm sorry i took so long

by wastelandyke



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Gen, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 03:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20771609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastelandyke/pseuds/wastelandyke
Summary: "Jay," he whispered into his hair, so softly he wasn't sure if Jason heard it. He wrapped his cape around Jason, thinking back to all the rainy patrols. He must have heard him, because he looked up at him and smiled."You came."





	i'm sorry i took so long

**Author's Note:**

> my fever addled brain wrote this in 30 minutes. anyway enjoy. also tell me if there's anything else you want me to tag! i'm doing this on my phone so it won't let me add freeform tags atm. also. big shout out to caitlin askamortician. she's a real one for making all those videos about death.

Unconsciousness slowly fell away from the boy. He didn't know when he became aware, but he didn't remember not being so. He didn't remember anything, in fact. When he realised the oxygen coming through his nostrils was sticky and heavy, he panicked. One thing he remembered - if you could even call it that, it was more like vague cognizance - was not having enough air. Of desperately breathing in, no oxygen reaching his lungs. He opened his mouth to gasp in the oppressive air. Or tried to at least. His mouth was sewn shut. Sharp pain radiated from behind his teeth, and chin. He made an aborted move to bring his hands to his face. He was stopped a large, wall? He didn't know what it was. It was hard, like it was made of wood, but not hollow, like there was something on the other side of it. It was lined with some cushioned material. If he was panicking before, he couldn't fathom what he was feeling now. There was a wire in his mouth, keeping it closed. It snapped as he frantically tried to open his mouth, and flakes of rust fell off, causing him to start coughing and spluttering.

He was quickly using up the oxygen in- wherever he was. He started hammering on the wall, and when that did little good, he began scratching at it, tearing the silky lining with his fingernails. The wood, it was wood, began to splinter under his fingernails, and he couldn't help but think that that hurt worse than the wire in his mouth. Warm liquid started dripping down onto his face. As he moved around he felt something sharp dig into his chest. He reached down and felt something cold in his pocket. When he had it clasped in his fingers _(around the middle, so you don't hurt yourself. like this. good lad)_ he suddenly felt calm. Well maybe not calm, but he didn't feel as panicked as before. This thing, whatever it is, it's there to protect him, make him stronger. He used it to finish breaking through the wood, something it did easily _(it's an alloy Jay, it's able to stay sharp, and still be strong)._

Jay wished he had thought to close his mouth, as mud and rocks and worms fell through the splintered wood, and he found himself coughing and spluttering again. He punched the wood again, and this time it broke away, leaving him enough room to pull himself out. It was wet outside, and cold and Jay wondered whether the heavy heat in the wood or the freezing rain outside was worse. The wood, he decided. He looked around and he saw. There was no light in the wood, but out here soft moonlight made the dew on the grass sparkle, and cast shadows out from the rows of shapes. Behind from where he'd just climbed out of, there was a statue, an angel, he thought. Maybe it was supposed to protect him. It hadn't done a very good job.

He wondered what he should do now he was out. He thought there was someone he should go see, someone who would want to see him, but he couldn't remember who. Maybe the person would come to him, although something told Jay his track record for that wasn't great. He didn't know what to do. _(when a decision is needed, master Jason, it is always best to sleep on it)_

So sleep Jason did. The ground below the angel's wings was dry, so Jason curled up there, ignoring the stickiness on his hands and the shallowness of his breath, and sunk into unconsciousness, being too exhausted to fear it.

\-----------  
Bruce jolted awake to the sound of the batcomputer blaring. He had fallen asleep looking over case files, something that was more common these days than him actually sleeping in his bed. He blinked the fatigue from his eyes and looked at the display.

He blinked again.

And then he jumped from his chair and ran to the batmobile. He pulled the cowl over his face, not having changed out of the suit last night.

Someone was breaking into his son's grave.

He knew, obviously, that being the son of a billionaire, Jason's grave was never exactly safe, but he didn't like to think about it, about someone disturbing his son. The days after Jason's death, he had acted automatically, robotically, even, just going through the motions. It was a week after Jason had been buried before he broke, kneeling against his tombstone, sobbing, for what must have been hours, until Alfred brought him home, his own eyes glassy with unshed tears.

He had reverted back to those first few days again, unconsciously making his way to the cemetery, the route ingrained in him like muscle memory. The car finally pulled up at the gates, after what felt like hours, and he stopped for the first time. He thought about how it would affect him seeing Jason's grave- he couldn't finish the thought. A small part of him hoped whoever did it was far away by now, for their own sake. He was ashamed of the larger part of him.

He summoned all the courage he could, which albeit wasn't much in this case, and opened the cemetery gates. Jason's grave was nearer the back. _one of the newer plots_, he thought icily. As he walked down the gravel path, rain beating down on him, he thought he smelled something different in the air. Maybe it was his own fear at seeing his son's grave dug up.

When he got nearer to the grave, he saw a hole in the earth, with wood sticking up through it. Something was wrong about that, but he couldn't think clearly enough to think what. _what part of this is right?_ another part of his brain supplied.

Then he was standing right in front of it, the resting place of his son, like he had many times before. He had no flowers this time.

That's when he noticed the small figure beneath the angel. His anger flared. How dare they? How dare they disturb his son? How dare they have the audacity to stay at his grave, as if they had the right? He stood there fuming for a few moments, before snapping out of it and moving towards the figure. They were small, probably a kid, and while Batman did not generally want children to be afraid of him, he didn't know if he could stop himself from intimidating this kid.

The kid stirred when he began to walk towards them. They turned over, and while it was too dark for Batman to make out their features, they obviously recognised his silhouette. A soft whimper escaped their throat and before Batman knew what was happening, they had wrapped their arms around him. And wasn't that strange.

He felt his anger dissipate slightly. This all felt so familiar. He looked down at the child, whose face was buried in his chest. Their wet hair was dark and covered in mud and what appeared to be blood, he thought grimly, and curled up at the end, the way Jason's used to. The kid was shivering against him, and sobbing wretchedly. He noticed all this in a matter of seconds, and when he overcame his shock, he brought one of his gauntleted hands up to the kids head, gently tilting it back to look at their face.

When he saw it, he thought he was going to be sick. It was Jason's face, covered in mud and with dried blood around his mouth. His mouth which was tinged blue. He fell unsteadily to his knees, pulling Jason down with him.

_that's what was wrong. the wood shouldn't have been outside. it being outside meant jason must have dug himself out._

That thought was what caused him to get sick, turning his head in time to miss Jason. Jason looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed, and Bruce stilled as he used the sleeve of his suit jacket to clean around his mouth. If asked later, Bruce would say that was the moment he genuinely believed it was Jason.

"Jay," he whispered into his hair, so softly he wasn't sure if Jason heard it. He wrapped his cape around Jason, thinking back to all the rainy patrols. He must have heard him, because he looked up at him and smiled.

"You came."

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i cried writing this. also cringed at my writing but go off i guess. also give me constructive criticism. i need to improve lol.


End file.
